


Windows

by Inky_pink



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: AU, Drama, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_pink/pseuds/Inky_pink
Summary: Sabine has a job to do, and a time limit in which to do it. But then her whole world is thrown into turmoil and she has some difficult choices facing her. Unused to questioning herself, will she follow her career or her heart?Total AU, single mom Beca, mercernary Sabine. Currently rated for language, subject to change as chapters progress.





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> Been on a bit of a hiatus recently, sorry guys - too many short deadlines, a big exam, uni applications and day-to-day life all happened as well as Christmas and family visits ha...so finally back on the wagon for now. I've had some of this written up since Summer, but decided to post 'Lullaby' first and let this take a back burner for a while. Let me know what you think?

 

 

 

Sabine briefly checked the time and looked around her, making sure she was on the right street before striding across and disappearing into an empty house opposite to the address she’d memorised. She headed up the stairs and set her large black duffel bag down just under a window in the main bedroom, before setting a seat up to the side to begin her watch. It should be a relatively easy job, the target was a civilian and had no reason to suspect someone might want her… _”un-alive”_ , as it had been phrased in her mission request. It would be a relief really after her last few – a bit of observing to feed back to her employer and then a quick and quiet termination, no mess, no fuss. In and out, as they say. She was glad of the lack of risk to this job, she wasn’t overly bothered about the client or his reasons for the termination request; rule one in her business was to leave your shit at the door when you clocked in and just get on with it. Over the years she’d just detached herself from anything resembling emotions regarding any of it and…honestly couldn’t care less about asking for justification for the dispatches she was given. She’d discovered some sickeningly dark nuances to the human race that could make your skin crawl if you let it, but overall it had just disillusioned her to actually being human so she preferred to disassociate herself with the entire species and collect her pay at the end of it. How she’d come to this point in her life could end up being a very long story if she ever bothered to tell it, but as there was no one she cared about telling it to then that didn’t particularly matter either. Sabine was efficient, well programmed and reliable. Everything a German should be, she would usually joke (with about as much mirth as an inmate on his last day on death row).

 

  She began to set up her little observation area, taking out all the relevant equipment she felt she would need and then sat back to wait. The driveway of the house opposite was empty, so she knew she had some free time before she’d need to start doing much, but she began her log with the date and time she began observations anyway just to feel like she was doing something useful. She sat like a statue, motionlessly keeping track of times as she felt necessary, but after the second hour of nothingness she sighed and her mind began to drift, pondering a little on her brief – it was unusual to get one from the private sector. She was usually employed by government officials to take care of troublesome political issues, but this particular client had offered more than enough money to make it worth her while and honestly this was basically a holiday. But it niggled at the back of her mind a little, both the case and the change in pace. Curiosity more than anything. She was out in a quiet, modern housing complex full of respectable family homes, it was strange that there should be anyone here needing to be…dealt with. Her client had given a report of his grievances to justify himself – none of which she’d really paid attention to, as she didn’t usually make it her business to get involved in the details; but now that she had time on her hands to mull it over, she decided to pull up the email and read again.

 

  _‘I need you to deal with an obstacle for me, someone that could tear me down if given the opportunity. I can’t let that opportunity arise and you come very highly recommended from several acquaintances.’_

 

  Sabine raised one eyebrow slightly – she might have known that this particular person would have friends in the government and FBI. Money had a way of getting to the top.

 

  _‘It’s an ex-partner of mine, and she has something I want. She won’t give it back and has threatened court and the media if I try to fight her for it. The stupid girl doesn’t realise how influential I am in her silly little world and now I need her to learn a lesson, rather permanently. It solves all my problems at once.’_

 

  Not much in the way of actual evidence then. And she knew this particular client via many sources. He was a grade-A bastard by all accounts, but who was she to get involved? It certainly wasn’t part of her job and now wasn’t the time to decide she had morals. The idea could possibly even make her laugh, if it was something she actually did on a regular basis. She combed a hand over her sleek, blonde hair to tuck back the flyaways she so hated and briefly closed piercing blue eyes. It wasn’t that she hated her job…or liked it really. The ambivalence itself would sometimes disturb her in the darkness of insomnia. The lack of any detectable emotion was becoming more of a topic for her 3am brain though she couldn’t put her finger on why. The agency that employed her provided access to very good psychiatrists (even hired killers needed an outlet of some sort) but she hadn’t been to one in all the time she’d worked there and she certainly didn’t feel like going now. Far apart from the fact that she could deal with herself just fine – to her mind – she wasn’t going to allow someone to try and tell her that her _only_ career was reaching its end already. Everyone knew what happened to ‘retired’ assassins, and it definitely didn’t involve a rocking chair on a sun-worn porch in California.

 

  Sabine pinched the bridge of her nose tightly, then drew in a deep breath to sort herself out and took a quick swig to from the hip flask she kept in her jacket pocket. There, Mr Daniels was telling her it was all fine and normal as he slid down smoothly and lit a fire in her belly. She liked Mr Daniels very much, and his fun little friend Captain Morgan even more. But the Captain didn’t get taken out on missions, he was for good times only. She half-smiled to herself, a grim touch to the expression, and crossed her legs as she settled on the bare floorboards of the empty room. Then she reached into a different pocket and pulled out a small electronic device, peering at the unlit screen before beginning to prod at some minuscule buttons that ran along the bottom.

 

  Sabine had one very guilty pleasure.

 

  She wouldn’t go anywhere without her Tamagotchi.

 

  Sure, she’d stopped to consider how absolutely ridiculous it was for any grown woman to still be a slave to one, let alone someone like herself. But it was so much a part of her, and still the closest thing to a pet she could have, plus it never really intruded in her life at all but gave her a tiny spot of gratification each day…and she could easily silence anyone who dared to mock her. At least it wasn’t drugs or anything else she was hooked on. And she’d had this particular little fella going for nearly five years solid now. He had a name and everything – though the chances of her telling _anyone_ what it was were less than zero. She finished his little midday routine and popped the device back into her pocket just as she heard a car turn onto the street and slowly approach the driveway opposite. Suddenly, she was all professionalism again, melting quickly to her observation spot with binoculars in hand and camera ready in case she needed it. Her breathing slowed to almost nothing…she twitched a dirty net curtain very slightly to the side…

 

  Down in the driveway of the other residence, a silver mini was being parked. A slim woman in her early thirties stepped out, a tumble of brunette hair lying over the shoulders of her dark blazer and wide shades covering a surprising amount of her face. She was dressed in what Sabine figured was ‘smart-casual’ and it looked good on her, she noted, surprising herself slightly. The woman went to the rear passenger door of her car and opened it, first taking out a laptop bag and large shoulder bag, leaving them on the driveway. She then bent into the backseat again for a few minutes before withdrawing, holding the hand of a small child – a toddler by the look of her, thought Sabine frowning faintly. The woman held the toddler’s hand as she hopped down from the car giggling and Sabine could hear the high voice drifting across the air.

 

  _“We home momma! Yayyy we home now!”_ She heard the woman laugh a little and respond quietly, could see her catch the small child up in her arms and give her a huge kiss as the little one wrapped her arms tightly around her mother’s neck, diving her little face into those soft chocolate waves and a look of pure peace and joy on each of their faces as they traipsed into their home, mother settling daughter on her hip and swiping up the abandoned bags as they went. Through the windows, Sabine watched as their routine unfolded, the woman preparing a snack and drink for her child and a cup of something hot for herself, the two sitting together at the table obviously chattering back and forth, then after the mundane tidying away of mess a game of ‘chase’ seemed to ensue. The mother was crawling through the rooms at speed after the wild toddler, making her laugh hysterically and run from one space to the next, occasionally hiding to jump out at her mother and vice versa. The game went on for a good half an hour before both parties were breathless and full of the giggles, laying on the floor beside each other trying to recover. The toddler crawled up against her mother, laying her head and an arm on her chest while the woman wrapped her own arm around the little one’s back and kissed the top of her head. As minutes ticked by and they calmed, their eyes began to drift and eventually they both fell asleep together right there in the middle of the sitting room floor. They were a perfect image of purest love and contentment.

 

  Sabine sat back from the window then, and relaxed muscles that had become painfully tense from her remaining stationary for so long. She set down her binoculars, accidentally catching a hand on her cheek as she did so and realised as she pulled it away that it was damp. Baffled, she swiped her fingers across her face and realised there were wet tracks all the way down to her chin, and several dark wet spots on the floor at her feet. Angrily, she dried the tear marks and drew in a slightly shuddery breath.

 

  Maybe a visit to the psych could be considered after all.


	2. Nightmares Become Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Warning for mild horror**
> 
> This chapter will probably seem a but slow, it's more of a filler chapter than anything. Hope it's okay for you guys!

 

 

 

 

 

_Sabine looked down on the greying limbs at her feet, splayed at odd enough angles that she could tell the owner of them was deceased. The skin was mottled and there was black pooling in all of the undersides that showed the body had been sitting there for a little while now. Her gaze roamed upwards along the corpse to find a cloud of dark waves that were probably once a rich chestnut colour and silken texture but now were just dry straw. The eyes were closed with a finality she could recognise and the features were waxy, doll-like._

_Her eyes moved again, to another shape next to the first and her breath caught in her throat whilst ice trickled through her body. The second form was smaller, though as grey as the first with the same black spots of congealing internal blood and fixed, unnatural pose. The tiny lips were blue, and yellow was beginning to shadow some patches of the angelic little face too…Sabine raised her hands and saw thick red blood dripping from them like syrup, sticky and entirely damning. She began to gasp, feeling the bile rising in her throat. A scream ripped from her like a feral creature clawing its way from captivity, never ending and raw enough to make her throat bleed. At her feet, the tiny corpse twitched slightly and as she watched in complete horror it rose, eyes opening to reveal only cloudy white voids. Miniature hands jerked across the ground to grasp at Sabine’s ankle and claw up her leg, freezing cold, damning her to hell for the atrocity she’d committed. She desperately tried to pull her leg free but it was clamped as though it was in a vice and she was rooted to the spot, her fate sealed. The face turned up to glare at her, a nightmarish smile playing at the corners of the mouth and the cracked lips parted to hiss “I’m hoooomee mommaaaaaa…I’m hoooooooomeee”…_

  Sabine yelled then and woke suddenly, drenched in sweat, one leg tangled in her bed sheet but the rest of her sprawled across the floor where she’d obviously tried to crawl to safety from the horrifying confines of her nightmare. She spent a brief second glancing around her room to search for familiarity and bring her nerves down off the ceiling. Her breathing was rapid and her throat was dry, hurting as though the screaming in the nightmare had been real. She clamped a hand over her mouth, remembering the sound she’d made as she woke, desperately hoping that she hadn’t been screaming aloud as much as she had in her dream.

 

  She pulled the blankets from her ankle and rose still feeling a little shaky. She didn’t really have dreams ever, let alone nightmares and that in itself was disturbing without dwelling on the content. She shuddered as the sweat cooled on her pale skin, pulled on a hoodie and padded through to her kitchen. She felt sleep was far away now so as a reflex she began to make a hot drink, to keep herself busy. She filled a tea kettle, set it on the hob top, dropped a peppermint teabag into a mug and turned to lean back against the countertop as she waited for the water to boil. Her arms folded tightly across her chest and she stared into space, still picturing the nightmare face from her disturbed sleep. Her brows knitted together in a heavy frown and she screwed her eyes shut, rubbing them hard with her knuckles to try and dispel the nightmare. Goosebumps erupted over her skin as she remembered very clearly the sensation of the tiny, rotting hand gripping her living skin like a vice of death. The kettle began to whistle, making her jump violently and then huff at herself in anger. The nightmare had left her rattled and it wasn’t a sensation she was at all familiar with.

 

  After brewing her drink, Sabine seated herself in a chair that faced a large floor-to-ceiling window in her apartment living room. It looked out over the city, and often insomnia would find her sitting in the darkness in her chair, watching the different elements of human life that occurred at various times of the day. Now, she sat with her knees drawn up, a blanket pulled around herself as she gradually sipped her tea and observed.

 

  In the apartment block opposite she could see a myriad of stories playing out. In one, a cat was on a kitchen countertop, helping itself to the family’s chicken that had been set out for roasting the following day. In another, a guy that she had noted seemed to be single, was playing his electric piano. He had headphones on and kept stopping to scribble onto the sheets in front of him – she’d watched him a few times and deduced that he was a composer for the local orchestra. In an apartment further up she saw a couple having a heated argument; another set of observations had told her that the guy was cheating, she guessed his girlfriend had discovered the infidelity and confronted him about it. Sure enough, a half-dressed blonde ran into the room and then headed straight for the front door when the girlfriend – or perhaps ex might be a better description, she mused – threw a heavy-looking vase at her. She snorted into to her tea in amusement, but then sat up a little when she noticed the girlfriend brandishing a large kitchen knife at the man. Her pulse sped up in excitement as she waited to see what she would do…but the man disappointingly decided his life was worth saving, and he soon exited the apartment too. Left alone, Sabine saw the woman crumple to the floor, obviously crying her heart out at the recent events. Sabine felt a stirring of pity, but moved to watch the other windows in the apartment block. Several hours passed and dawn crept over the skyline. Sabine had resigned herself to the fact that further sleep wouldn’t be happening any time soon and had moved on to coffee as the golden morning light warmed her home. Sighing, she rose to wash her cup before heading for the shower to start her day.

 

***

 

  Back at her observation spot, Sabine was making time notes in her book once more. It was a Saturday morning and her targets were having a slow wake-up today. Through the course of the morning they sat and watched cartoons, lazed on the sofa, played games, the little girl dressed up in a wide variety of costumes – at one point making Sabine huff a tiny laugh as she stomped around the sitting room disguised as a tiny T-Rex. Then around mid-morning, the two emerged from the house, dressed and packed up ready to head out for the day. Sabine knew this was her chance and as soon as the car left the street she flitted from the empty property she was stationed in and around to the secluded rear side of the target’s house.

 

  She found herself in a large garden, beautifully taken care of but also dotted with play-equipment. She slowly made her way to the deck area and came to the sliding doors, taking care to peer through them before crouching down and extracting a small toolkit from her backpack in order to pick the lock. During her time observing, she’d noted the little family didn’t appear to have a dog, which was a relief as she didn’t fancy having to work out tranquiliser dosages to keep a canine contender at bay. What she didn’t prepare for, however, was the cat that shot straight for the decking doors as soon as she slid them open. Noting the blue-grey blur heading straight for her, she quickly slammed the door and only just managed to stop the feline from escaping. It looked up at her reprovingly, and she met its gaze and shrugged.

 

  “Sorry puss, not this time.” She whispered, before slinging her bag back over her shoulder and creeping through the house. Everywhere she looked there were photos of the woman and her daughter, souvenirs from places they’d been and things they’d made together. As she moved through the living room, she saw a whole wall of frames that each contained photos and tickets. She moved closer, curiosity getting the better of her. Inside one was plane tickets to Orlando, passes for Disney and photos of the mother and daughter with a number of different princesses, the little girl dressed in an array of sparkly costumes to match each one they’d met and a huge grin on her face every time. Sabine noted that in one or two of the photos, the brunette woman appeared to have been coerced into wearing a tiara; a deadpan expression on her face whenever a princess crown was involved. It caused Sabine to chuckle quietly to herself, appreciating the obvious lengths she went to for her daughter.

 

  She moved on, looking in the other frames as she passed – tickets for museums, attractions, city visits, aquariums; photos of them at the top of the Empire State building, meeting Santa and his reindeer, ice skating…Sabine found herself smiling unconsciously. She began to notice that every photo that had both of them in had a common theme – they were selfies taken by the woman, each time. Sabine frowned to herself, realising the two had no one else in their lives, no one to take their photos or be in their pictures with them, no one to sit with the woman in the evenings once the little girl was in bed, to share her day with her, run her a bath, bring her a glass of wine and rub her neck after a hard day at work. They had only each in the entire world.

 

  Unconsciously, she ran her finger over one of the photos, tracing the lines of the woman’s face. She noted the soulful, navy blue eyes, the luscious chocolate curls of her hair, the silvery-pale skin...the woman was beautiful. There was weariness in the creases around her eyes, despite the smiles; something tugged inside of Sabine, and she inhaled harshly, dropping her hand rapidly back to her side and shaking her head to clear it. Frustration welled up briefly before she firmly closed a lid over her feelings once more. Within a split second she had become herself again, the cool, collected automaton who was there to do her job and nothing else.

 

  Come to think of it…there was actually no reason for her to be there, she realised. She’d let her curiosity – no doubt born from the tiredness she was feeling and the remainders of her disturbed night – lead her down a purposeless rabbit hole and now here she was, creeping around the target’s house for no reason whatsoever. She took out her phone and jabbed at it agitatedly, re-reading her latest message from her client. He wanted to wrap the case up ASAP, with as little fuss as possible. Sabine began to ease around the house for a different reason now, familiarising herself with the layout and finding at least a dozen different dispatch methods beginning to filter through her mind immediately. She calmly whittled her choices down until she had two clear options. The issue was the child – how best to get her to her client? Her obvious option was sedation and immediate transport. To clarify her plan, she fired a quick message to the client.

 

**S: Plans set, need decision on receipt of target B to go ahead.**

 

  Sabine saw the sent notification and tucked the phone back into the rear pocket of her jeans, scoping the house one more time as she waited for an answer. The blue-grey cat found her and began to wind around her ankles, mewing at her. She raised an eyebrow in return and pushed him away gently with one foot.

 

  “Not now, cat.” She muttered quietly at him. He came straight back and wrapped himself back around her legs, adding a loud purr to the action. He had a funny, squeaky rumble of a purr and it amused Sabine a little. She sighed, relented, and squatted down to pet him briefly. He saw his chance and jumped onto her knees, leaning up to rub against her neck and shoulders. She fussed over him a little, catching sight of his tag as she did.

 

  “Mr. B huh?” She asked and the cat meowed in happy response, the tickling getting the better of him. Her phone buzzed then, and she gently pulled him off of her, placing him back on the floor so that she was able to stand. “Too bad you’ll be going to a new home with your little mistress soon _kleine katz_.” She informed the feline, no emotion in her voice. She pulled out her work phone and checked the response from her client.

 

**J:** **Target B?**

 

  Sabine rolled her eyes – sometimes she really did need to spell everything out for her clients. What was the point in going to the effort of a secure line of communication and using code if the client couldn’t be relied upon to uphold confidentiality.

 

  “Idiote.” She muttered as she tapped her response tersely.

 

**S: The child. When and how do you want her brought to you?**

  The reply was swift this time.

 

**J: What do you mean the child? I said nothing about bringing the child to me.**

**S: That was the point of the job was it not? You said this woman had something very precious to you and you want it back.**

 Suddenly her phone began to ring. Mildly surprised, she answered curtly.

 

“Problem?” She enquired in a smooth voice, not bothering with pleasantries. She listened to the voice on the other end for a moment, wandering through to the kitchen at the same time. She leaned on a countertop, waiting for the client to finish.

 

  “I see.” She intoned. “So not the child then?” Another pause as the client repeated his instructions. Her face impassive, she waited for him to finish.

 

  “You’re asking for something outside of the targets I usually deal with. If you had made this clear from the beginning, I would have given you a much higher price…is that perhaps why you failed to tell me?”

 

  This time the client raised his voice, and she snorted at him when the phrase _“dumb bitch!”_ was thrown in for good measure. Idle threats and then some more swearing, before she cut him off.

 

  “Look, I didn’t say I _couldn’t_ do it, I said I _don’t usually_. Leave it with me. I need a little time to find what you’ve described, but I think I know where she would keep it. And you owe me another 20.” She paused as he said something else and then smiled mirthlessly. “Yes, thousand, you dick-brained ass weasel. Have it in the account by midnight tomorrow or the whole thing is off, no refunds. Don’t forget what happens if you mess me around.” And she hung up on him before he could say anything else.

 

  She sighed and rubbed her face tiredly, before resting her chin in her hands and glancing across to the cat known as Mr. B.

 

  “Well, well miniature mouser. No home with little mistress for you after all.”

 

  The tiny rotting hand surfaced in her memory once more and she shivered imperceptibly. She wasn’t certain she could continue with this job, though she really had no choice as she was in too deep…

 

  The sound of a car door in the driveway brought her back to her senses immediately and she whipped around, sprinting lithely and silently for the doors leading to the decking. She slid them shut and disappeared from the garden just as the front door opened and the brunette woman and her daughter entered.

 

  The little girl ran straight through to the living room to switch on the TV, settling down after a busy day out with her mother. The woman, however, wandered into the kitchen, sifting through some mail in her hand. She popped her kettle on the hob and perched briefly at the breakfast bar as she opened a couple of letters, absent-mindedly stroking Mr. B who had made himself at home on the surface by her elbow. He meowed at her to her attention making her laugh quietly, put the letters down and give him her full attention. He headbutted her gently as she tickled all the right spots, and she buried her face in his fur – cat therapy she called it. Humming in happiness, she listened to his quirky purr.

 

  But then she frowned slightly. “Mr. B?” He chirped in response and continued to rub against her chin. “How come you smell of cinnamon?”

 

 


	3. The Ex Files

 

 

  Three am found Sabine sitting at her laptop, black-framed glasses perched on her nose as she studied the screen intently, tapping rapidly at the keys. She was flicking through pages and pages of restricted government files – no level of security survived against her skills for very long, and at one point she’d snorted at how easy it was to access what she wanted.

  Now she was pulling up multiple file pages, all with information relating to her current employer. She’d heard plenty of rumours on the underground grapevine about his dealings outside of his ‘official’ position, but what she was finding now was on another level entirely. Her brow furrowed as she read about his dealings in illegal diamond mines, human slavery, payments to warlords to gain land…it was worse than she’d at first suspected.

  Leaning back, she pushed her glasses up onto her head and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. More nightmares like the first one had followed night after night and her eyes were now permanently shadowed. She leaned her chin on her fist and stared absently out of the window, her weary mind turning over as fast as it was able. A cold cup of tea was abandoned at her elbow, a very definite sign that she was distracted. This whole case was starting to feel a little uncomfortable now, in more ways than one.

  She was unsettled at the prospect of the task that awaited her, but she was more concerned with her own reaction. She’d spent a lot of years developing the defences necessary to perform her job, not just capably but well, and she hadn’t balked at a task yet. But she’d also never been asked to deal with this sort of target, had never consciously accepted a job that required her to be quite so callous. Others in the agency did, all the time. Ex-wives and children would mysteriously drive into bodies of water in freak accidents, trucks would divert and destroy family cars on the motorway, faceless criminals would break into houses and murder a mother and her children for the petty cash under the mattress…anything could be made to look like a tragedy and not linked to the true culprit, if you knew the right person to hire.

  But she had never been that person, and now she’d been tricked into it she was furious and sickened – at her client, yes but also at herself for even trying to plan her approach to the assignment. The payment she’d demanded was not inconsiderable, but the ultimate cost was beyond any monetary value to her.

  Sabine sighed, palms pushing against the glass surface of the table as she rose. She collected her cup on the way, dumped the tepid contents down the sink and set the kettle to boil again. A frown wrinkled her pale brows as she leaned back against the counter. From her back pocket she pulled a creased photo, which she unfolded and studied carefully. It was a picture of the woman and her daughter, which she’d taken from the house as she slipped out the last time. It was another self-portrait of the two, the woman’s navy eyes radiating love to the camera as her daughter’s head rested against her own. Identical blue eyes sparkled with mischief and dimples peppered the corners of the little girl’s mouth, caused by the open-mouthed smile that appeared to have been caught mid-giggle. The two of them were the epitome of pure love.

   Sabine’s own mouth turned down at the corners as this last thought registered with her. Echoes of her own mother came to her, a harsh voice correcting and belittling the tiny child sobbing at the piano after hours of practise, a punishment for a missed note during a recital. The rhythmic _tip-tap_ of the stern heels as she paced a dance studio floor, pointing out every flawed ballet position and sneering at the childish creases of flesh she called ‘fat’. Slow footsteps echoing along empty school corridors, no one else to join her as everyone but her had been taken home for the holidays. Sabine’s childhood had been privileged, well-financed, highly educated…but had been completely devoid of love. Hers was not a lifetime of abuse or hardship, as many had surmised – that would have indicated at least some depth of feeling. Instead she had been ignored; an accessory to be picked up and put aside as needed, used to impress others and then relegated to anonymity once more.

  The harsh whistling of the kettle brought her back to the present and the photo in her hand, with a single beaded teardrop spreading across the shining faces. She growled and angrily shoved the photo into the nearest drawer, slamming it shut. Impulsively she grabbed the largest kitchen knife from the wall-rack and spun, flinging it at the wooden bookcase in the open-plan sitting room with an enraged scream. The blade embedded deeply into the heavy wood, causing the whole frame to rock and several books to shower onto the floor. It was a rare slip in her façade, and her breath snorted through her nose as she fought to regain composure. She recognised with concern that she was coming apart at the seams.

  Hanging her head in resignation, the thought solidified that this might very well be her last job before ‘retirement’ after all.

 

***

 

  Another sunrise, another day on the mission. Sabine sat on the dusty floor this time, back against the wall and glaring at the cracked, flaking plaster opposite. Her foul mood had persisted since the knife-throwing incident and wasn’t going to shift until she took some sort of decisive action. So she’d returned to her observation post, not to watch this time but rather to wait. She was unsure of what exactly her plan was, but she was drawn back to the brunette’s house to try and solidify it.

  Dawn was still a little early for much to be happening, but she felt more productive being there than pacing her apartment. So she sat, as still as a statue, and watched the line of sunlight move up the wall as the morning wore on, only relaxing and shifting once she heard the front door across the street close and the unmistakeable sounds of a mother herding her rambunctious threenager to a fixed schedule. Sabine turned and rose slightly above the window ledge to watch carefully as the scene unfolded below her.

  The tone in the woman’s voice indicated that they were running late. Through the slightly-open window she heard the various non-committal answers to the hundred-and-one questions and comments from the small girl, ranging from “Wassat do?” while pointing to the car’s wheels, to “Dat silly birdie eatin’ grass. Issa cow!” and every random observation in between. The brunette was looking harassed as she hastily swung the little girl into her car seat and tried to wrestle her harness on. This proved to be a struggle, as every time one arm was looped in, she would sneak the other one out to point at something or fidget with whatever she possibly could. Her mother was quickly losing her patience, until…

  “Eleanor Rayne Mitchell, PLEASE behave yourself and let me put you in your seat!” Her mother’s voice was loud and firm, and she got _full-named_. She was shamed into silence, hanging her head and waiting patiently for the clasp on her harness to be fastened. As her mother pulled back from the car interior, Sabine’s sharp ears picked up a very quiet, incredibly contrite “Sowwy momma.” She saw the woman’s shoulders sag as she obviously sighed, before leaning back into the car and giving her daughter as much of a hug as she could manage around the car seat.

  “It’s okay sweetie, mommy shouldn’t have shouted – I’m sorry too. We’re in a hurry and we both got a little cross, huh?” The small child agreed and they hugged again. “Come on then Elly Jelly, let’s get going.” The little one giggled at her nickname.

  “Awight mommy. I luff you!” She stated spontaneously, suddenly wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck and kissing her soundly. The woman smiled blissfully and returned the affection.

  “I love you too my baby.” She sighed. They paused like that for a second and Sabine watched unblinkingly, taking everything in. And then suddenly the whirlwind of activity resumed, the woman pulling back from the car, grabbing her bags from the driveway and tossing them into the passenger side foot well, before slamming all of the doors hastily, practically leaping into the car herself and pulling from the driveway as quickly as legally possible.

  The sound of the Mini faded into the distance, signalling to Sabine that it was time to move. She rose slowly, her mind still conflicted but enough of a plan pulled together to have prepared a kitbag of supplies should she go ahead with anything.

  She quickly manoeuvred into the house across the street without being observed, setting her bag down on the breakfast bar in the kitchen and opening it to take out a handgun with a silencer on the muzzle – the weapon was cold against her hands, heavy and suddenly alien against the pulse thudding in the hand gripping it. She pushed it into the waistband at the back of her jeans and then paused as she took in the home one more time with all of her senses. The sharp, warming smell of sandalwood and patchouli that was the woman’s perfume. The sweetness of the waffles that had been cooked for the little girl’s breakfast, the heady oddness of the lilies blooming heavily in the vase on the wooden kitchen table. She could detect the fresh mint of toothpaste after a morning hygiene routine, the bitterness of the woman’s coffee dregs still sitting in her cup right next to her. She peered in – the woman drank plain black coffee, no sweetener or milk. Sabine imagined her sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping and appreciating the complex tastes, could hear the echoes of the small girl chattering and singing. Ghosts moved around her – images in her mind of the multitude of activities that occupied their days. A longing filled her, as she felt the warmth of their family unit deep in her soul.

  Resolution set her sharp jaw, clenched her fists for her and she shook her head hard to try and rid herself of the sentimentality clouding it. She strode through to the woman’s bedroom, the place she figured she’d find what she was looking for. The perfume was stronger in here, and she got a real sense of the brunette as she gazed around. The room was well-organised and tidy – the king sized bed had been made, no fussy cushions or stuffed toys, she noted. The bedside tables were sparse, no ornaments anywhere other than the odd keepsake that her daughter had obviously made at kindergarten. This woman appeared to steer away from clutter and disorder, preferring a plain environment. Sabine pursed her lips and moved around the room, peering carefully at everything.

  Finally, she found what she was looking for. A creak under one foot made her look down at the wooden floorboards beneath her feet, and then at the single, incongruous rug that her toe was nudging. She frowned. This woman appeared to despise unnecessary furnishings in her room, and yet here was a rug, placed on the empty side of the bed – judging by the fact that the bedside table on that particular side was bare, no phone charger or book unlike the other side. Quirking her head to one side, she considered the rug before walking slowly across it, hearing further creaking and the quiet shuffle of a floorboard moving. Quickly, she knelt and pulled the rug back to reveal the floor beneath and the loose floorboard she’d heard, plus one on each side of it. Smiling triumphantly, she hooked her fingernails into the groove at one end of a board and pulled, finding that it lifted away easily. As expected, underneath was the floor cavity, dusty and full of cobwebs that shifted in the spectral draft that runs under all houses. As tiny dust motes rose into the shafts of sunlight in the room, Sabine tugged her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket and turned on the flashlight to see inside the hole a bit better.

  Nestled beneath the floor was a large metal security box, roughly the dimensions of an old telephone directory but three times as deep. Carefully, she reached down and pulled it out, finding that it was heavy but manageable for her. She let it thud onto the floor next to her knees and, observing the lock on the front of it, cast her gaze around the room for the key. After several moments of observation, her eyes fell on a small square canvas hanging above the brunette’s side of the bed. It stood out, not because of the childish scrawling marks across its surface, but because it was very slightly crooked. Having noted the level of order this woman preferred in her environment, Sabine knew this was exactly what she was looking for. She rose and moved towards the canvas, quickly lifting it from its hook and peering beneath, finding the tiny silver key that she knew would fit the deposit box she’d just hauled from underneath the house.

  In no time at all, Sabine had the metal box open and was faced with…

  The biggest rough diamond she’d ever seen in her entire life – the largest, in fact, that anyone had seen. This was the ‘something’ that her client wanted returned. Not his own child, but a diamond, cut from the earth with blood and slavery, obtained through warfare and violence. At odds with everything the woman and her daughter had created in their home. And as Sabine stared at it, it began to feel like Poe’s tell-tale heart, thudding with the guilt of murder and lies, filthy and damning.

  The heavy drumming she could hear was her own heart, rushing blood through her ears as her guilt and anxiety rose to the surface. She dropped the diamond as though it was on fire, or could taint her with its own evil. As it clanged back, however, it caused the whole box to shake and something loosened with a _click_. Leaning in to look carefully around the whole structure, Sabine found that the inside of the lid was actually the top of a secret compartment, which had popped loose when she threw the diamond down. She employed her fingernails once more and pulled the sheet of metal away to reveal a large manila envelope.

  Sabine paused, realising suddenly that this was all getting decidedly odd. A seemingly normal woman had a death warrant on her head issued by someone that she shouldn’t have even come into contact with, because she was holding an enormous diamond hostage…something was very strange about all of this. Eyes narrowing, Sabine carefully pried the envelope out of the secret compartment and opened it, pulling out what was obviously a pair of police files (how many times had she liberated similar documents from their ‘secure’ storage?). Curiosity now fully alight, she flipped the first one open.

  Inside was a series of police reports. Sabine sifted through without reading, until she came to a page that had an outline diagram of a female body on it, with multiple areas shaded and a page of notes to go with it – she recognised a victim report when she saw one. As she pulled the document closer to be able to read it better, photos slithered out of the page underneath and hit the floor. Sabine gathered them up hurriedly and went to push them back into the file, but stopped when she saw the picture on top. It was a photo of someone’s back, covered in large purple and black bruises, many of them showing prints that were obviously from a boot being stamped violently into the tender flesh. The person was small and slim, ribs – some of which were obviously broken – and vertebrae pushing harshly at the skin as though whoever it was hadn’t had a proper meal in months. Underneath the black bruising was a sea of sickly green and yellow, showing that this was a regular occurrence. Mouth open in shock she looked to the next photo, which showed the victim’s neck – what other word could she use but victim? This person had obviously been mercilessly attacked – and she surmised this was a woman from the frontal view of the picture. There was horrific bruising around the trachea, darkened finger marks clearly visibly along with deep scratches that appeared to have been made in defence from the victim scrabbling desperately to release the chokehold.

  Feeling sick she flicked through the photos, seeing the full range of horrific injuries this person had sustained as a result of a prolonged domestic violence attack. The final image was a woman’s face, barely recognisable as human, never mind anyone familiar. Both eyes were obscenely swollen to the point of being fused shut, and black. Dried blood crusted the entire face and a multitude of cuts, abrasions and in some cases burns covered every inch, making features indistinguishable. The lips had been split and stitched back together, the hair hung lank and matted with blood. Slowly, as she stared hard at the woman pictured, realisation hit Sabine.

  “ _Scheisse!_ ” She swore loudly, and the photos once again hit the floor. She quickly flicked back through the file, skim-reading the written notes. She ran her finger along the lines as bits of the text jumped out at her.

  “Six fractured ribs…four teeth missing…fractures to both eye sockets…” her eyes widened as she read, tears starting to form. “High impact fracture to right femur, use of blunt force trauma…hairline fractures to skull…internal bleeding from spleen, immediate removal…pelvis shattered due to heavy impact… _fuck_ …” she ended in a whisper, rocking back on her heels and letting the file slip to the floor as she dragged her hands across her streaming eyes. Taking a shuddering breath, she pulled herself together and retrieved the document – which, she’d failed to notice before, was marked _Rebecca Mitchell_ ; this was her target. She closed her eyes against further tears, knowing in her heart that the suffering this woman had endured had been at the hands of her client. As she wondered if there was anything he wasn’t capable of, she remembered the second file and shuffled it to the fore to read it…

  “Eleanor Mitchell…” she intoned, her heart plummeting. She hardly dared open the file and when she finally did, she manage to glance at the victim report only, leaving the photos in the back untouched. She couldn’t bear to see visual evidence of what she’d read, it was more than even her frozen heart could bear. She broke down fully at that point, sobbing at the thought of everything this woman and her daughter had endured, the shattered bones, the fear, the permanent imprint on their lives. As her cries calmed, she used her sleeve to dry the cascade of tears from her cheeks and began to gather up the papers she’d disturbed, preparing to put everything back where she’d found it and leave – she wasn’t going to complete this mission, there wasn’t enough money in the world to make her do it now.

  The realisation of her final decision lightened the guilt her heart had been carrying ever since she realised the truth of the task, and she heaved a great sigh, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back in relief. Peace washed through her and suddenly the week of tiredness fell away from her shoulders. She resolved then and there to take all of her savings and leave the country that night, seeking out a new life – anything that wasn’t her current world of “kill or be killed”.

 Something cold and smooth pressed into her right temple, causing Sabine’s eyes to snap open and the pupils to dilate with the sudden rush of adrenaline that fear had brought about.

  Standing above her, holding her own gun to her head, was the brunette woman. Her face was deadly serious as she slowly and deliberately released the safety catch on the weapon, allowing the heavy finality of the _click_ to resonate through Sabine. The assassin swallowed harshly and her hands crawled upwards in surrender, pleading for her life with her eyes. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against her skull.

  “You have ten seconds…start talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's alive! (Insert appropriate Doctor Frankenstein expression here). I'm slowly getting back to everything, I promise.


End file.
